


If the Fates Allow

by Ims0s0rry



Category: Jane the Virgin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Christmas Fluff, F/F, Inspired by Hallmark Christmas Movies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-10-01 00:59:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17234432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ims0s0rry/pseuds/Ims0s0rry
Summary: Luisa's heading home for the holidays but is stuck at the airport. Rose is a pilot and decides to take pity on her. They spend a lovely day together. And then they lose contact. In trying to find her again, Rose stumbles across some surprising revelations.What happens when someone who's never seen a whole Hallmark movie tries her best to stuff as many cheesy tropes as possible into a Christmas fic.





	If the Fates Allow

**Author's Note:**

> Credit goes to Luthor for casually dropping "Rose is a pilot" into conversation months ago. I've been lowkey internally screaming ever since then. To fully realize Luisa's thirst for Rose in uniform, y'all should go to google images and search "woman pilot" or something of that ilk. No, really. I'll wait. Back? Okay, let's do it.
> 
> Editing? Don't know her. All mistakes are mine.

Luisa sits in a coffee shop booth, nodding off. She’s been stuck at the Toronto airport for the past few days due to bad weather at her destination and this is the first time in hours she’s been comfortable enough to start drifting off. Those gate seats are hardly conducive to a good night’s sleep. Every morning she wakes up with more aches and pains and always so, so cold. She hasn’t showered in three days.

In any other situation she would’ve given up and booked a hotel room to wait out a snowstorm, but the airline keeps promising that she’ll be on the next possible flight out within a few hours but well...

She leans her head back against the vinyl seat, her mouth slack. The coffee shop is starting to come to life around her. She is very close to going from dozing to full-out snoring when a voice rises above the din.

“Excuse me, can I sit here? Everywhere else is full.”

She ignores them, figuring whoever it is is talking to the person in the booth next to her. It isn’t until she’s tapped on the shoulder that she startles awake, laying eyes on a stunning redhead in a crisp pilot’s uniform. Three nights of inadequate sleep have completely robbed her of her filter. So the first thing she says to this woman is:

“You’d better watch out for elves with zip ties because you’re what I want for Christmas.” It takes a few seconds before her eyes widen when she realizes she’s said that out loud. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry. Please forgive me. I didn’t mean to hit on you when you were just trying to find a place to sit. Here, take the booth. I’ll leave.”

To her surprise though, the redhead laughs and slides into the booth across from her. “No, stay. That’s one of the better ones I’ve heard.” She takes off her mirrored aviators, pushing them up into her hair. Luisa wants to be murdered by her eyebrows. It is only through an ounce of self-control wrought through mortification that she abstains from saying this out loud as well. “I’m Rose.”

“Luisa,” she says through a yawn. “Excuse me. I’m sorry. I swear I’m not usually this rude.”

“Don’t apologize. You seem exhausted. Early flight?”

Luisa tries to take a sip of her coffee, but frowns when she finds it’s empty. “The opposite, actually. I’ve been here for the last few nights waiting for my flight out.”

Rose winces in sympathy. “That’s rough. Where are you going?”

“Italy, with another layover in Frankfurt, but I guess I’ll be here for a while since they’re in the middle of a blizzard.”

“Actually it’s supposed to clear up by tonight. The flights will be going out tomorrow morning.”

Luisa snorts. “That’s what they’ve been telling me multiple times a day for the last three days.”

Rose grins. “Take my word for it. I’m scheduled to fly the next flight out to Frankfurt and everything’s ready to go.”

Luisa rolls her eyes. “No offense, but I doubt it. What are the chances of me finally leaving Toronto the second I meet a pretty lady?”

“Pretty good, I’d say. The weather channel’s predicting a 80% chance of the storm clearing up within the next day.”

“Yeah, well that’s what they’ve been saying for the past few days and I’ve still been stuck here.”

“Care to wager?”

“Oh? What are you willing to bet?”

Rose’s gaze lifts to something above Luisa’s head. She looks up as well. In her exhausted state, she didn’t notice that the coffee shop has gone full-out on holiday decorations, including stringing up sprigs of mistletoe above each of the booths.

“What about a kiss?”

Luisa raises her eyebrows in disbelief. Is that it? Rose has to know that’s a laughable bet. But she didn’t once swindle Raf out of all of his Pokemon cards when they were kids by showing her hand. “Deal.”

Rose tips back the rest of her coffee. Luisa watches her throat move as she swallows. When she gets up, she holds a hand out to Luisa. “Wanna get out of here?” she asks with a sly smile.

Luisa is already taking her hand and being pulled to her feet even before she says, “Where?”

“I know a place.”

 

“And then, and then the forecast for Christmas Eve was rain...dear!” Rose finishes with a flourish.

The sun is just beginning to rise when they stumble out of the uber and into the hotel lobby, giggling. Luisa is wheezing faintly; she can hardly breathe for laughing.

“How can I help you?” the receptionist asks, looking a little bewildered at the sight of two grown women doubled over with laughter.

Once Rose gets her breath back, she says, “Two adjoining rooms, please.”

“Sorry, we’ve got quite a limited selection with all the delayed flights. No more adjoining rooms available.”

“What have you got left?”

“Some doubles. Plenty of singles.”

Luisa smirks and starts to say a single would be fine, but Rose cuts her off. “We’ll take a double.”

Luisa tries to split the bill but Rose pulls out her rewards card and basically gets the room for free with all her accumulated points so Luisa gives up.

As they walk down the hallway to their room, Luisa says, “I can’t believe that we subverted the ‘and there was only ONE BED’ trope.”

“What?”

“Well, whenever there’s promising chemistry between two characters and they have to huddle together in close quarters, there’s always just the one bed.”

“You do realize this is real life, right?”

“Really? Because ever since I met you, I feel like I’m dreaming.”

Rose rolls her eyes. “That’s probably because you haven’t slept well in almost 72 hours.”

Luisa grins. “Pretty sure it’s because I’m cute and you know it.”

Rose opens the door to their room for her. “Regardless, I thought you might appreciate some space and privacy after spending all those nights in the airport.”

“I wouldn’t have minded. I don’t bite.”

“What about your safety? How would you know I’m not a cold-blooded drug lord/serial killer?”

“Are you?”

“No.”

“Then there’s nothing to worry about.”

Rose shakes her head. “Your lack of regard for your own personal safety astounds me.”

“I choose to see it as still having faith in humanity.”

“One day it’s going to get you into trouble.”

“Probably, but not today!”

Rose pushes her gently toward the other bed. “Please get some sleep.”

“Right after I take a shower.”

When the bathroom door opens, a cloud of steam billows out before Luisa steps out wrapped in nothing but a towel. She sighs. “I’ve never felt cleaner in my life. Thank you.” She pecks Rose on the cheek.

“What was that for?” Rose glares at her phone screen harder as Luisa drops the towel and starts to rummage through her luggage.

“For rescuing me from another day of agonizing boredom.”

“No problem,” Rose says, her fingers tightening around her phone.

Once Luisa is safely dressed in a pair of flannel pajamas, she says goodnight (even though it’s morning now) and faceplants onto her bed. Rose sits on her bed and listens to her snores as she scrolls through her phone.

 

It’s hardly four hours later when Luisa hops out of bed.

Rose stares at her. “There’s no way you’re rested already.”

“Not really, but I’m at a solid 70%.”

“Why not sleep until you’re at 100%?”

Luisa grins. “You think I’m going to spend all day sleeping in the company of a gorgeous pilot in a foreign city?” She reconsiders. “Well, not in separate beds at least. No way.”

“Toronto can’t be that foreign. Aren’t you American?”

There’s a noticeable pause before Luisa says, “Yeah, but I’m from Miami. Toronto is a Canadian winter metropolis. I’ve never spent any time in the actual city before. Why, have you?”

“Some.”

“Are you up to playing tour guide for a day?”

“Only if you’re sure you’re okay?”

“Rose, I’m in med school. I’ve fared way worse. Besides, I love the cold. Let’s go!”

…

Rose, of course, takes her to an outdoor ice skating rink. She herself can’t do much more than skate forwards and stop, but Luisa makes her look like an expert. After a shaky lap around the rink hand-in-hand, Luisa “suddenly” can’t stay on her feet. This ends with her falling a lot and dragging Rose down on top of her.

Despite her earlier words, Luisa changes her mind real quick.

“I hate the cold. I’ve never been so cold in my life,” she moans, even though she’s wrapped in new parka so puffy her arms permanently stick out.

“Have you always lived in Miami then?”

“No. I actually grew up in...the mountains, but our winters were never this cold. And then I went to boarding school in Virginia for high school.”

Rose whistles. “Boarding school, huh?”

Luisa shrugs but Rose notices there’s tension in her shoulders. “My dad wanted the best for me. And then I broke his heart by going to a dinky little college in Florida instead of Stanford or an Ivy League.”

“But you’re in med school. He’s definitely proud of you, right?”

Luisa shrugs again. “He’s always wanted me to take over...the family business, but I’ve got different plans. I’ve always wanted to make something of myself and make a difference.” She grins crookedly at her. “You must think I’m so naive.”

“No,” Rose says, taking her hand. “I think determination and empathy are great qualities for an aspiring doctor. But come on, let’s head inside. I know how to warm you up.”

 

Luisa whines when the uber stops outside a pioneer village. “I thought you said we were going inside.”

“We are. Have some faith in humanity and therefore, a stranger you met a few hours ago.”

Walking into a blacksmith’s forge is like getting hit by a wave of hot air. Luisa’s face lights up under the puffy fur hood. “Are we going to watch them make swords?”

“They’re just going to be assisting. We’ll be making something, although a sword is probably beyond our experience at this point.”

Luisa is already shedding her coat and rolling up her sleeves. “Alright, show me where the molten lump of iron is.”

They end up making a horseshoe.

It is totally by accident that Rose has to put her hair up and strip down to her tank top to strike the iron with a sledgehammer. And she absolutely does not notice that Luisa’s eyes linger on her arms as she does so.

At the end, they have a vaguely misshapen u that could be generously called a horseshoe. Luisa loves it anyway.

“I have to admit, this isn’t what I had in mind when you told me you were gonna warm me up, but that was so cool I can’t be disappointed.”

“I hope not. I’ve only got hours left to impress you. How am I doing?”

Luisa purses her lips but there’s a playful slant to it. ”Jury’s still out on that one. Depends on where you’re taking me next.” Luisa asks, trying her best to loop her arm through Rose’s in her ridiculously puffy coat.

“How do you feel about wine and cheese at an art museum?”

“Everything about that sounds lovely except for the wine part.”

“You don’t drink?”

“Not anymore.”

Rose scrolls through her phone. “Let’s see what else I have in store.”

“No, I’d love to go to an art museum with you and snack on cheese cubes the whole time.”

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable since there’s going to be alcohol there.”

“It’s okay. I can handle it.”

“You shouldn’t have to.”

“I want to, especially if I get to spend it with you.”

 

Luisa raises an eyebrow when Rose flashes her library card at the entrance. “I thought you said you’d only spent some time here.”

“I do.”

“Enough to have a library card?”

Rose scuffs the floor with a boot. “I spend a lot of time in cities all across the world. My schedule doesn’t allow it often, but if I’ve got time to head into the city and take a look around, I’ll stop by the city library and pick up a card. I collect them.” She opens her wallet. It’s packed with cheap plastic cards, most of them proclaiming READ! or some other cheesy literacy line. Maybe. Probably. There are very many in languages Luisa doesn’t recognize.

“That’s one of the sexiest hobbies I’ve ever heard of.”

Rose blushes.

They wander around the gallery with a collection of cheeses and some sparkling cider.

“Ohhh.” Luisa stops dead in front of five panels of a mountain landscape.

“It’s pretty. Looks like the Andes, or somewhere in South America.”

“Have you been there?” Luisa asks, not taking her eyes off the painting.

“Not in person. I’ve just seen them from the air.”

Luisa sighs and leans against Rose’s shoulder. “It reminds me of home.”

“Where did you grow up?”

“A tiny city in the middle of nowhere. I’m actually on my way back there for Christmas. It’s kind of a big deal for my family.”

“You don’t seem very excited to go back.”

Luisa shrugs. “I love my family. I love spending time with them since we’re apart for so much of the year. But I feel like we don’t see eye-to-eye. No matter what I say, it’s just expected that I’ll drop everything and take over the family business when my dad steps down.”

“Even if you’re a successful doctor?”

“Yeah. The...company’s been in the family for generations. And as the firstborn, everyone assumes that I’ll be more than happy to carry on the tradition.”

“There’s no one else?”

“My brother could probably do it. He’d love it. But he also grew up with too much money and not enough self-restraint so his past is littered with indiscretions that the council wouldn’t approve of, although he’s been much better since he became a father.” She frowns. “To be honest, we’re both messes, but his mistakes have been much more public.”

Rose leans her head on top of Luisa’s. “I don’t think you’re a mess.”

“Ha, you don’t know me very well. I’m a hot mess.”

“I’m not sure about the mess part, but you’re definitely hot.”

Luisa laughs loud enough that the other visitors turn to glare at them.

 

When they bundle into another uber, Rose says, “Are you ready to turn in? The flight’s pretty early in the morning.”

“I’m good. Did you have something else in mind?”

“Well, I was thinking it’d be a shame to leave a city behind without seeing what it has to offer in terms of nightlife, but I wanted to run it by you first. I know there’s going to be a lot of alcohol.”

“Let’s do it. Just stop by the hotel for a few minutes. I don’t think the club will let me in based on my neon yellow I heart Toronto hoodie and sweatpants.”

 

Rose frowns as she digs through her small bag. “I didn’t bring a dress.”

“That’s fine,” Luisa says, slipping a heel on. “Wear your uniform.”

“My uniform? Why?”

“Because you look good enough to eat in it,” she says, running her tongue along her teeth.

Rose wears the uniform.

 

It doesn’t take long to get into the club. Rose is content enough to sit at the bar with a coke and people watch but Luisa drags her out to the dance floor. “What’s the point of going to a club if you’re not going to dance?” she shouts above the pounding bass line.

Rose isn’t a total hopeless case. She can dance if the situation calls for it.

But Luisa is something else altogether. How someone can make the sprinkler sexy is beyond Rose’s comprehension. And that’s before she says, “Watch this!”

Her expression turns into a look of great concentration. She keeps swinging her hips as she waits for the beat to drop before she throws her hands straight up in the air, two fingers pointed. It isn’t until she starts to motion to the front and side that Rose realizes that she’s doing the flight attendant dance. People back up to give her some room as Luisa jerks her arms around.

She can’t help the grin that spreads across her face as Luisa starts on the oxygen mask part.

When she’s done there’s a smattering of applause before the next song starts. Luisa mimes a lassoing motion and starts pulling her in. Fondness wells up in Rose’s chest as she gamely allows herself to be pulled into Luisa’s arms.

“Have you thought about becoming a flight attendant instead of a doctor?” Rose murmurs into her ear. “Because I’m sure the passengers would pay a lot more attention if you were taking them through the safety information. Extra points for the dance moves.”

Luisa laughs. “No, I only pull out my vast collection of retro dance moves for special occasions. I think doing it everyday would take the fun out of it.”

“What’s the special occasion?”

“Exploring a new city with you, the sexy pilot I came across.”

“You only like me for the uniform.”

“No, that’s just a nice bonus. But I really did have a great time with you today.”

“Me too.”

There’s a split second of hesitation before Luisa leans in and kisses her. She pulls back, her eyes half-closed, before she smiles and kisses her again.

“Wanna get out of here?” she asks, parroting Rose’s words from this morning.

“I know a place.”

 

Luisa waits until Rose locks their hotel room door to literally pounce, throwing her bodily onto one of the beds and clambering on top of her.

“Whoa,” Rose says.

Luisa stops, crouched over her and tucks a loose strand of hair behind an ear. “Too fast?”

“No.” She reaches up to cup her face and rises up for a kiss. “It was just unexpected.”

“Do you know…” she says, pausing for kisses, “how hard it was...to keep...my hands off you all day?” Her fingers fumble with the gold buttons of Rose’s jacket and then make quick work of her button-up, leaving her in her tie and bra.

“I have an idea,” Rose says, gasping when Luisa nips her neck. “You told me you didn’t bite!”

“Oops. I meant figuratively. Does it hurt?”

“Not really. You are full of surprises.”

Luisa smirks. “You have no idea.”

…

Luisa moans and rolls over when Rose’s alarm goes off the next morning. Rose sits up and silences her phone before she prods Luisa. “Come on, get up. The storm passed. We’ve got a flight to catch.” She moves to get out of bed.

“But baby, it’s cold outside,” Luisa whines, pulling her back.

“You think you’re so cute, don’t you?”

“I _know_ I’m cute. Prove me wrong, I dare you,” she mumbles into the side of Rose’s thigh.

Rose rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling. “Five more minutes.”

 

Of course, five minutes turns into oversleeping. They’re late. Which is why they’re sprinting through the airport. They barely make it through security and to the gate on time.

“You’re cutting it very close, Captain,” the gate agent says.

(Luisa tries to suppress a shiver. She does not entirely succeed. Why didn’t she think of calling Rose Captain last night in bed?)

“I know, I’m sorry,” Rose says. To Luisa she says, “I’ll meet you once we get off the plane.”

And then there’s no more time to talk. They run down the ramp, Luisa making her way to her seat as Rose lets herself into the cockpit.

When they reach cruising altitude, Luisa leans against the window and smiles, her eyes closed against the sun.

…

Luisa is one of the first off the plane. She stands off to the side of the door as people file past. She knows the crew is the last to exit.

Everything is going fine until the intercom clicks on. “Will a Luisa Alver come to baggage claim? There’s an urgent issue with your luggage. Luisa Alver, to baggage claim.”

 _It’ll probably just take a second_ , she thinks. She hurries off as the Frank Sinatra’s final melancholy notes echo through the busy terminal: “And have yourself a merry little Christmas now...”

...

**Three months later**

Rose lays in bed, scowling up at the ceiling.

Heidi sighs and props herself up on an elbow, the bedsheet pooling at her waist. “You’re thinking of her again, aren’t you?”

Rose gets out of bed and picks up her clothes with jerky, irritated movements.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Heidi says. She watches as Rose hop around the room trying to pull her pants on. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of. You’re an excellent lay but what we have is strictly casual. I’m not going to be offended if you’re pining after your mystery girl.”

“It was months ago. It doesn’t matter anymore.”

“You keep telling yourself that,” Heidi says, rolling over on her side and pulling the sheet back over her.

Rose lets herself out of Heidi’s apartment, turning the collar of her peacoat up. It’s been a pretty mild winter for Boston, all things considered, but it’s not quite warm enough for Rose’s taste.

When she gets back to her own apartment, she heads straight for the shower. Her phone vibrates as she’s toweling her hair dry. It’s a notification from Twitter.

After she’d gotten off the plane all those months ago and hadn’t seen Luisa, she’d figured she’d just gone to the bathroom or something. But she’d waited and waited and after two hours, got up and left.

(Unbeknownst to her, Luisa had spent three hours arguing with the German customs agents about why the saber in her luggage was purely ceremonial and very important to her cultural identity and therefore needed to follow her to her final destination. Once she’d convinced them of that, she’d rushed back to meet Rose...only to find the gate empty.)

Of course, in the whirlwind of their day together, they’d forgotten to exchange any sort of contact info. Rose doesn’t even know her last name. The only thing she has is a selfie they’d taken together at the art museum.

But she can’t stop thinking about her. So she’d done the only logical thing and asked for help from the internet.

First she’d hit up Craigslist Toronto’s Missed Connections, hoping that Luisa would be looking for her as well, but she just got a lot of weird messages so she took it down after a few weeks.

And then she turned to Twitter.

 **@everyrosehasitsthorn** : Hey Twitter. Help me find her. We lost contact and I’d love a second date

So far, nothing. Until now.

 **@royalphilia** : uh dude @everyrosehasitsthorn, that’s princess luisa of san marino

Rose plops down on her bed, the towel still on her head, dumbfounded. There’s no way the sweet, punny, introspective girl she met who spent their whole day together in a baggy neon yellow ensemble is a princess.

But when she types “princess luisa san marino” into google images, pages and pages of results pop up. Yup, that’s definitely the Luisa she’s been looking for. And her caginess about her childhood and her “family business” makes sense now.

So like any reasonable person crushing on a celebrity, she turns on her laptop and proceeds to cyberstalk her.

A wikipedia page, several fan blogs, and some serious research into San Marino later, Rose sits back in her chair, a look of pure disbelief on her face. The relief she feels at finally finding her is eclipsed by pure intimidation. She’s the face of a nonprofit that supports underprivileged kids with mental illness and supports dozens more, ranging from ashrams to amphibian rescue groups. Not to mention all the actors, models, singers, and other royalty she’s frequently seen in the company of. There’s one photo where she’s kissing a well-known Victoria’s Secret Angel that’s captioned “Princess Luisa and gal pal”.

Before she was just Luisa, an enjoyable date and maybe on the edge of becoming something more. But now she’s a _princess_ with influence and money who also seems to be a bit of womanizer. And she’s still...just Rose.

…

**Eight months later**

It takes Rose eight months to save up enough vacation time to fly to San Marino. It’s an out of the way sort of destination. It doesn’t even have an airport. When it had come up in casual conversation, everyone she’d told had raised their eyebrows.

(“Why?”

“I have...my ancestors are from that part of Italy. It’s a discover your roots sort of trip.”

They’d stared at her fair complexion and her red hair dubiously but hadn’t said anything.)

To be honest, she isn’t quite sure why she’d decided to go. She’s sure one day nearly a year ago doesn’t mean anything to a crown princess.

 

The cheapest way is go through Toronto and then Munich.

She gets a pang in her chest every time she stops by Toronto now. It’s a lot colder and lonelier than she remembers it being. She can’t stop herself from staring after anyone who’s waddling around in a bloated coat even though she knows that none of them are Luisa.

She flies to Bologna, takes a two hour bus to Rimini, and then another one to San Marino. She is left sweaty and dusty in the historic center when the bus roars off to its next destination.

It’s early December and Christmas is already in full swing. The trees are festooned with lights, a Christmas market full of sweets, and someone’s boisterously singing an Italian carol in the distance.

Her airbnb host is a little old lady that welcomes her with cheek kisses and a string of mingled Italian and English. She insists on feeding Rose several helpings of a bean and bacon soup before she can get in a word edgewise. She learns that her name is Marina and that she’s a widow who lives with her dog and several cats. She loves going to the farmer’s market and drag racing. Every Wednesday, she goes up to the mountains with her basket and rifle and comes back with wildflowers and several dead rabbits.

“Why do you come to San Marino?”

“Uh...it’s a beautiful country.”

Marina slaps the dinner table. “Yes! I show you. What do you look for?”

Rose clears her throat. “Actually, is the royal family here right now?”

Marina nods sagely. “Ah yes. You Americans are so obsessed with royalty. But no, they are not in San Marino currently. Emilio is in Croazia. Rafael and family live in Napoli most of the year. Luisa is in America to do her residency. But do not worry. They all return for the Christmas ball.”

“What ball?”

“Sammarinese tradition is all princes and princesses must dance with every eligible bachelor or bachelorette, respectively, from the age of 18 until he or she is married. Luisa, as the unmarried crown princess, has three nights to dance with all the Sammarinese gentlemen that would like a dance.”

Rose heart sinks.

“It is an archaic tradition, of course. Everyone knows that Princess Luisa is, how do you say...very homosexual.”

Rose is in the middle of sipping her water and almost chokes. She coughs. “Th-that’s good. Um, good for her for being true to herself.”

“Yes. We are very proud of her. She is to be a doctor!”

Rose smiles. “She’s a hard worker.”

“A good trait to have in a future queen.”

Rose swallows. If Luisa as a princess is out of her league, what chance does she have with a queen?

Marina’s face lights up. “But you have come at the best time! San Marino is loveliest at Christmas!”

…

Marina shows her around for the first couple of days but then gets roped into a high stakes poker game for the days after that. Rose’s Italian is rudimentary at best but she thinks that there’s a very large betting pool and Marina seems to be winning.

The whole country is tiny but Rose enjoys riding a bike around the streets and finding hidden nooks that aren’t as often trafficked by tourists. Despite her broken Italian, everyone is perfectly friendly to her. She can see why Luisa wasn’t prepared for Toronto if she’s used to winters like these. She spends an entire day drinking coffee at a sunny little cafe and reading a worn paperback (in English, thankfully) from a secondhand bookshop.

Which isn’t to say she doesn’t do all the regular touristy things. She rides the cable car up and the down multiple when she can’t bike up the steep hills anymore. She tours all the towers and takes too many selfies. She visits all the museums, especially captivated by the ones specializing in torture and vampires. She gets her kitschy passport stamp from the tourist office. She takes several day trips into Italy to go to the beach and see more.

 

One day, she’s wandering around the palace (or the area that’s open to tourists anyway), when she bumps right into a woman in sky high heels and a pantsuit. Unfortunately, Rose was also holding a cone of gelato that she subsequently ends up smearing all over said pantsuit.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry. Mi dispiace! Here are some napkins!”

The woman pushes her away. “Don’t bother,” she says in accentless English. “It’s ruined. I’ll just have to throw it away.”

“How much is it? I can pay for it,” Rose says, digging in her purse.

The woman curls her lip. “More than you could make in your lifetime, clearly.”

The rudeness is so unexpected that Rose is just startled instead of offended. She pauses. “Look, if there’s something I can do for you—”

“There’s not.” She looks her up and down. “Ugh, this is why I hate tourists. Always so oblivious and getting in everyone’s way.”

“I’m sorry. I was just distracted.”

She arches a brow. “Oh? By what? What could possibly be so engrossing that you would besmirch an original…” She trails off when she notices Rose’s gaze on the Luisa’s official royal portrait (oil on canvas, naturally.) “Yes, she’s quite the beauty, isn’t she?”

“Yeah,” Rose says a little dreamily. “They even managed to capture that glow she gives off.”

The woman scoffs. “Don’t be ridiculous. That’s the crown princess you’re drooling over.”

“I know. There’s no rule against admiring her.”

She tosses her hair. “Well, good. Because she hasn’t got time for commoners like you. She hardly has time for people like me.”

“And who exactly are you?”

She draws herself up to her full height. “That’s Your Grace, Allison Cristina de Pérez y Limón, Duchess of Soria to you, peasant.” There’s a beat. “And her girlfriend.”

“What?” In all of Rose’s meticulous research, there’s never been any mention of a partner.

“Well, ex-girlfriend. But that’s officially off the record. I fully intend on winning her back.”

“But you’re not currently together.”

“Don’t look so hopeful. What do you think Her Royal Highness Luisa Catarina Vittoria Alver Solano, Crown Princess of San Marino, would ever see in a scruffy nobody like you?” she sneers.

That cuts deep, tapping into a deep well of shame, but Rose will not let this Allison have the satisfaction of seeing her words hurt her. Rose thinks back to their day together and remembers how hesitant Luisa was to divulge any information about her background. “Have you ever thought that maybe Luisa isn’t as impressed by names and titles as you are?”

Allison throws her head back and laughs. “Don’t be ridiculous. It’s what she was born into. Why wouldn’t she want to play it up every chance she gets? I would.”

“Maybe that’s why she dumped you.”

Words can’t describe how satisfying it feels to leave Allison gaping like a fish behind her as she turns on her heel and exits.

…

A week before Christmas the fan blogs Rose follows are suddenly inundated with new photos of Luisa. There she is at the Bologna airport, smiling and waving (not a pretentious wave, a normal person wave.) Here’s a few of her getting into a cab. These show her heading into the palace with her luggage. Rose’s heart aches seeing her so close after all this time. She could walk ten minutes and be standing outside Luisa’s window.

(She won’t, though, because a. she might be keeping tabs on her online but she’s not _that_ creepy and b. she’s still not sure if Luisa wants to see her. Sure they had a good time last year but maybe it was just a one time thing. Maybe Rose is entirely forgettable. She’d rather hold onto the memory of that day than run into Luisa and have an awkward conversation that will taint that.)

One day Rose is taking a stroll to her favorite cafe when she passes the market. She ducks her head when she sees Allison arm in arm with another woman, laughing in this obnoxiously loud, false attention-mongering way. She’s in no mood to be chewed out again, especially when she had the last word last time.

But she pauses when the woman turns her head and the watery sunlight glints off her smile. It’s Luisa.

Rose stops breathing momentarily. After months of searching and yearning, she’s _right there_. Just across the square.

But then Allison leans in to whisper something into Luisa’s ear and Luisa turns to grin at her. They look happy. They look like a couple. Maybe Allison wasn’t as delusional as she seemed.

Rose spends the rest of the way at the cafe brooding.

...

The Christmas ball is finally upon them.

Rose is snoozing on the couch, two cats dozing on her torso and the dog curled up around her legs for good measure, when Marina slams open the living room door. The cats immediately use Rose’s stomach as a springboard to run and hide.

“Oof.” Rose jackknifes awake. Marina feeds her cats very well. The dog lifts his head and sleepily blinks at the pair of them before he goes back to sleep.

“Wake up! Wake up!” Marina says, clapping her hands.

Rose winces. “What?” She has a tendency to be irritable when woken up suddenly. She keeps very strange hours as a pilot with all the time zone hopping. She has to sleep whenever she finds the time and being on vacation just means more naps.

“You need to get ready for the first night of the Christmas ball!” Marina says, pulling her to her feet. The dog splays out on the recently vacated real estate.

Rose scowls, rubbing an eye. “Why?”

“It is tradition! Now quick, put on something decent. We go in five minutes.”

Rose grumbles but finds some jeans and a cable knit pullover. She’s barely finished buttoning up her coat when Marina drags her out to the main piazza.

She has to admit that it’s picturesque. The sun is just about to set and highlights a massive tree, festooned with tinsel and ornaments and candles. And above them, strings of interspersed lanterns glow softly as the sky darkens.

A crowd has already gathered. Couples twirl each other on the cobblestones in front of the tree: old men and women, children whirling around in circles, shy high school sweethearts. And in the center of it all, in a nude ball gown, is Luisa.

Granted she’s in the arms of a blandly handsome man, but Rose is heartened to see her smile seems forced.

“Come! Come!” Marina says, grabbing her hand.

“Oh no, I don’t—”

“Rose, will you spend all night staring longingly at her, or will you actually do something about it?”

“What?”

“Do not think I have not noticed that you brighten up every time I mention Luisa.”

“No, it’s complicated. You don’t understand. I—”

But it’s too late, Marina pulls her into the fray, doing some sort of quick two-step Rose can’t even begin to comprehend. And then she spins her off. She passes from partner to partner, barely managing not to trip multiple people. Elvis’s _Blue Christmas_ is just starting when she’s almost thrown by a particularly exuberant woman.

And she stumbles straight into someone’s back.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what I’m—” Rose starts, but cuts herself off when she realizes that the woman she ran into is wearing a nude ball gown.

Before Luisa has a chance to turn around, Rose is already halfway across the piazza, weaving through the dancing couples.

Luisa stares after the retreating figure’s red hair, frowning in thought.

“Your royal highness, are you okay?” asks the man she’s dancing with, steadying her.

“Yes, thank you.”

“Very rude of her, running out without even a proper apology,” he comments in an offhand sort of way.

“She reminds me of someone,” Luisa says, more to herself than to him.

 

After a couple weeks in San Marino, Rose knows the city almost as well as the locals do. She takes a sharp right and squeezes into the royal gardens, which although currently empty, are open to the public. She finds a gazebo strung with fairy lights and collapses on the bench, breathing hard.

“What are you doing here?”

Rose yelps and tucks her feet up, scooting as far backward as she can. She thought she was alone, but a girl in a blue pastel dress regards her curiously from the hedges outside the gazebo.

“What are _you_ doing here?”

“We live here, part-time at least,” says another voice.

Rose jumps again as an identical girl in a pink pastel dress pops up from behind the other girl.

“Jesus,” Rose says, pressing a hand to her hammering heart. “Are there any more of you I should know about?”

“Nope, just the two of us,” the first girl says.

“So what are you doing here?” the second one says.

“I...needed to get away for a bit. Catch my breath.”

“I don’t think running is a good way to do that,” the first girl says doubtfully.

Rose purses her lips. “Not that part, obviously. I saw someone I was keen to avoid. So now I’m just hanging out here for a bit.”

“Oooh,” says the second girl, hopping up to sit next to her. “Who is it? Do we know them? San Marino’s pretty small. I bet we know them.”

Rose is taken aback. “I don’t know. Wait, you guys said you live here?”

“Yup,” the first girl says, sitting on Rose’s other side. “Only during the holidays, though. The rest of time we live in Napoli.”

Realization dawns on Rose. “You’re Anna and Elsa.”

“Ellie, please,” the girl in blue says. “Not even my parents call me Elsa.”

“So,” Anna says, staring at Rose intently. “Who is it?”

Bewildered would be an understatement. Rose has no idea how to go about explaining that she has a huge lesbian crush on their aunt, or even if she should try to explain it in the first place.

“It’s someone I met in passing last year. We had a good time together but then we lost track of each other and then I only recently found her again, but I don’t know if she wants to see me again. I just saw her at the ball and I bumped into her and I panicked and here we are.”

Anna and Ellie exchange narrowed glances.

“Are you talking about our Zia Luisa perchance?” Ellie says.

“You’re Rose, aren’t you?” Anna adds.

Rose scrambles to her feet and backs away from them slowly. “Okay, I don’t know what freaky twin telepathy you’re using but it’s seriously creeping me out.”

Ellie rolls her eyes. “Relax, we’re not using our freaky twin telepathy. Not right now, at least.”

“Why? Do you want—”

“—to see us use our—”

“—freaky twin telepathy?”

“No, no thank you.”

“Shame.” Anna pouts. “No one ever wants to see our twin gimmick.”

“But if it’s not that, then how do you know…?”

“Your name?”

“Your connection to Zia?”

“Your credit card numbers?”

When Rose starts to inch toward the exit, Ellie laughs. “Okay not that last one. We’re just messing with you.”

“But it still stands that you’re a complete idiot.”

“Excuse me?”

“Look. Our zia is strong, independent lady who don’t need no man.”

“Because she’s gay,” adds Ellie.

“Yeah, that too. She’s very...free-spirited. She doesn’t want to be tied down. She’s always going out with all sorts of glamorous women.”

“Okay…is this supposed to make me feel better? Because it’s not.”

“No shut up, that’s not what I’m going with this.”

Rose blinks. These two might be princesses but it’s still jarring to be told to shut up by prepubescent children.

“My point is, despite that, she also hasn’t stopped looking for you.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“Ever since last Christmas, she keeps perking up whenever she sees a woman with red hair, but she’s always disappointed. She says she’s looking for someone in particular. She flew a lot before but now she’s obsessed with international airports and pilots. Her frequent flyer miles have doubled within the last year. She’s looking for you, you dumb bitch.”

“How old are you guys?”

“Eight.”

“And a half.”

“Where did you learn to talk like that?”

“Our mom watches a lot of _Real Housewives_ when she’s stressed, which is often. People keep getting killed at the hotel she runs.”

“Are you sure you guys aren’t living in a reality tv show?”

“Definitely not. If anything, it would be a soap opera.”

“Okay, well you guys should definitely not be using that sort of language.”

“You can’t tell us what to do.”

“Yeah, you’re not our real mom!”

“Jesus. Okay, whatever. But what about Allison?”

“What about that fake ho?”

“I literally ran into her a few weeks ago. Basically she told me to back off because she was going to win Luisa back and I didn’t think of it until I saw them at the Christmas market. They seemed cozy.”

“Ugh, Zia can’t stand her anymore after she caught her cheating.”

“What?”

“I know, right? But she knows what Allison’s like now. It was probably just for appearance’s sake. Zia has to play nice with the other nobles every once in a while to keep the council happy. Make sure that San Marino keeps all its options open or something like that.”

Rose’s head is spinning with all this information. “Okay, so what do I do now?”

Anna and Ellie exchange another glance, sly this time. Rose is starting to get nervous whenever they do that.

“Okay, listen up…”

…

On the second night of the ball, Rose pulls her pilot’s cap further over her eyes and slides into the congregation making its way to the piazza. Her palms are sweating. She’s still not sure about taking advice from two eight (and a half) year old girls but it’s too late now. She’s already in position.

Besides, she thinks, wetting her lips. What does she have to lose, right?

She’d spent all night ironing her uniform until the creases were so sharp you could almost cut yourself on them. Hopefully the girls were right and Luisa will appreciate the sentiment and not laugh in her face and throw her out of the country.

Logically she knows that’s a bit of a stretch, but emotionally it sounds very valid.

Just like the first night, everyone crowds into the square to dance. The eligible bachelors, ranging from fresh-faced barely legal boys and men so old they’re leaning heavily on canes, queue up at one end, kept in check by stoic palace guards. There don’t seem to be very many for a whole country. When she’d asked Marina last night, after the twins had briefed her on her plan of attack, she’d shrugged.

“The people are very aware of Luisa’s orientation. Most men do not bother. But there are always some that insist on trying their luck. Speaking of which, best of luck to you,” she had said, winking, before she headed out to win her (most likely illegal) poker game.

So now she waits in line, trying her best not to fidget and wrinkle her uniform. No one gives her strange looks. Her distinctive red hair is tucked up into her cap and she’s wearing her aviators. She could pass for a perfectly average man.

It seems like several days, her whole body so tensed she’s shaking slightly, before she reaches the front of the queue.

Luisa smiles at her, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. It doesn’t seem like she’s really seen her yet.

She swallows. This is her moment of reckoning. She could leave the line now, and no one would be none the wiser. Put all of this behind her. Think back at this moment fondly as when she chased a princess halfway across the world.

But she’d also live with the regret for the rest of her life.

She strides to meet Luisa at the base of the Christmas tree. “Your royal highness,” she says, bowing before she extends her hand in invitation.

Luisa steps into her arms after a half second of hesitation. And then she cocks her head and actually looks up at her face. There’s the start of a real smile at a corner of her mouth when she says, “This is an interesting event to wear sunglasses to.”

“I wear them for work,” Rose says, tucking them into her front pocket. She’s so nervous she’s become deceptively calm. “Sometimes I forget to take them off.”

Snow starts to fall.

“Oh? And what is it you do for work?” Luisa glances at Rose’s navy blazer. There’s a sparkle in her gaze that’s been missing all night.

“I’m a pilot.” Rose spins her.

“Interesting. I spent a whole day with a pilot once.”

“Don’t make it a habit. They’re a lecherous bunch.”

“But damn if they don’t look good.”

Rose shrugs a shoulder. “I certainly can’t refute that.”

Luisa grins. “I’ve been looking for you for what seems like forever, Rose.”

“Me too.”

Everyone transitions to some sort of swing dancing as Mariah Carey’s iconic _All I Want for Christmas is You_ starts. Rose can’t keep up at all. Luisa laughs and spins her around. They end up next to the tree again.

“Look, mistletoe,” Luisa says, pointing up. And there is indeed some mistletoe dangling from a bough. “If I recall correctly, you owe me a kiss you never delivered on last year.”

“I’ll have you know that I’m always a woman of my word,” Rose says.

Luisa pulls off Rose’s cap, her red hair spilling around her shoulders, and tugs it onto her own head. “Prove it.”

Rose arches an eyebrow before she sweeps Luisa off her feet, making her yelp in surprise, and kisses her the way she’s wanted to for the last year.

In the distance, Allison smashes the glass of champagne she’s holding. The twins high-five. The remaining men in the queue quietly leave. And Mariah Carey belts out, “All I want for Christmas is you, baby.”


End file.
